I stared at the groom, the best man, and the groomsmen.I turned and stared at the congregation. They began to softly murmur.All of them stared back at...me.I had killed people with my hands. I had destroyed things with my hands. Iknew how to fight. I had blood on my hands. I knew how to conquer. Jumpout of an airplane at 27,000 feet over the Indian Ocean at midnight? Seenthat; done that. My hands.Mustering every single fibre of excellence in my body, every single forceof will and determination I. It was three forty-five before Carlotta Castellano got out of bed. Her head was throbbing, her mouth was dry, and she wasn’t alone.Carlotta loved her job. No, more than that - her job was her life. It was always on her mind, whether she was at the store, vegging out in front of the TV, even on a date: her job was always there, tucked away in the corner of her brain.Except last night.For some reason, last night she hadn’t thought about work at all. She’d done something that she couldn’t remember. More

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